Promise
by FlygonRider
Summary: Years ago, we made a promise to always be together, no matter what it takes. And I never break a promise.


A/N: Here is probably one of my saddest storys ever. I was inspired to do this by the How To Train Your Dragon fanfic "Guardian Angel". Enjoy!

* * *

Promise

"_Now listen very carefully Kirby."_

"_Poyo?" _

"_We're going to make a blood promise. Once you make this promise, it can never be broken. Understand?"_

"_Poyo."_

"_And to seal a blood promise, you must mix the blood, so a little part of the promise exists in each of us forever."_

"_Poyo."_

"_I swear and promise upon my life's blood that, should anything come between us, I will always find a way to come to you, no matter what it takes. Even if I must die."_

"_Poyo, popoyo,poyo."_

* * *

The swordsman saw the blond child and the pink Star Warrior fighting side by side, working in perfect sync, like they had been born to do this, or like light and dark.

He fought above, dodging through skies fraught with death and peril. How could he have even seen, through all the blood and screams, one whom he considered his own son, struck down? And yet he did.

They soon routed the enemy, made them flee back to their pathetic kingdom with their tail between their legs. He landed softly next to the pair, and picked up the royal child, just barely turned 16, averting his eyes from the sight of his bloody, still student. Gliding back to the husk of what was once the castle, he laid her gently on some sheets that had been pulled together into a makeshift bed.

They held the funeral only a day afterward. He was one of the pallbearers, carrying the wonderfully made casket to the warrior's final resting place. As he lowered it into the gaping maw, he wondered with much bitterness and sorrow, weren't sons supposed to bury fathers?

There was Mayor Len, standing up at the front, behind the headstone, prattling on about how he would be missed, how great he was, how much he enriched the lives of everyone.

_Shut up old man. Heh. I shouldn't be talking. I'm probably as old as his great-great-grandfather. But what's the point of dragging this out? What's done is done. Let's just all go home._

Finally, the long, drawn-out speech ended, and he went back to her, who now encompassed his entire life. And finally, after being asleep for nearly two days, she opened her eyes.

It was time to tell everything.

* * *

As she opened her eyes, she automatically stretched her arms above her head.

"Did we win, Meta Knight?" She asked. He tried to lie and brighten up.

"Yes, we did." He said, too cheerfully. Her face became somber again.

"How many did we lose?"

"A lot. Both Dedede and Escargon are dead, and the toll will probably just continue to rise as we find more bodies." She stared at the plank that had been pushed into the entrance to use as a makeshift door.

"I think Kirby can come in. I mean, it's not like he'll eat me or anything." She smiled a little bit. "He is coming back, right?"

He stared at the floor, refusing to answer. She grabbed his shoulders, and shook him.

"He is alive, he has to be. Tell me he's all right. Tell me he's alive." A tear slipped under the mask of the indigo ball. She reared back like she had been hit with a sword, and stumbled against the wall.

"He has to come back. He has to. We were going to go down and swim in the river and have lots of picnics and-"Tears built up in her eyes.

"He's dead. He's dead and he won't ever come back and it's my fault because I should have been near him." The masked knight whispered. The girl pushed the door down, and ran wildly into the hallway, screaming,

"Shut up! He can't be dead, I'll find him again." She kept walking down the empty hallway, despite her body's protests. "We promised."

Finally, her body gave out, and she slumped against a stone arch, sobbing and watching the rain pound into the earth.

"_Poyo…" _the voice whispered out of the downpour. Her head snapped up as though attached to a string.

"Kirby?...No…he's dead. I'm just going crazy." She muttered to herself. As if on cue, the pink warrior materialized from the deluge. She stood up in joy, no longer noticing all the aches and pains, only the fact that he had come back for her, so they could both ride into the sunset. He turned around and began to run away from her, and she took off after him.

They raced towards the edge of the village, just like years ago, when they would play tag in these same fields with each other. Every time she almost touched him, he would somehow stay just out of her reach. Soon she panted with exhaustion, but still found a deep hidden strength that forced her to keep going. After several minutes, they passed the last house, and approached the hill were they had often shared picnics together.

As she approached the top, she tripped and splashed into a shallow puddle. Standing back up, she refused to notice the mud staining her front. Her friend had disappeared. Stumbling forward, her foot pressed into soft earth. Newly turned earth. Earth right after a burial. She recoiled and hissed, willing a glance up.

And her heart stopped dead. There was the statue that they had used, years and years ago, to pull the ultimate prank on the superego king. She hoped that's all it was, someone with a sick, twisted mind playing a very cruel joke on her.

But somewhere in her heart, she knew he was gone. Falling to her knees, she clawed at the ground, screaming at the sky her pain and misery, until her voice became nothing and her throat bled red tears. She fell to the side, waiting until her tears subsided, while the rain kept up its endless, eternal deluge.

* * *

For weeks she stayed like that. Simply laying there, drinking water from puddles. Many people came up to try and talk her out of it. Even more tried to take her away. Only then did she stir, and only to attack them with such primal rage that they claimed she had been taken over by Satan himself. So they simply left her alone.

Soon her body had wasted away, her clothes hanging off of her like cotton candy on a stick frame. After nearly two weeks, she came down with fever, brought by her extended stay outside. But she still refused to leave. Barely able to move, she simply lay there beneath the headstone, watching the fascinating movies her gnawing hunger played for her.

But soon, she realized that the end was coming. Her stomach had become a hard knot, and her fuzzy mind had difficulty discerning what was real and what was hallucination. Corners poked through her skin so sharp, should anyone fall on them, they would probably crack their head open.

As her final hour drew near, the masked knight came to comfort her. He drew her close into his body, taking his mask off so she could huddle deeper into his indigo skin, stare one last time at those sulfur colored eyes.

"I'm scared, Meta Knight." She whispered.

"And why would that be?" He asked. She shivered.

"What if Kirby isn't here? What if he blames me and won't take me with him?"

"Don't worry, he'll forgive you. It's too late to go back now."

"I know. But, don't I have a right to be scared?"

"It'll be fine, okay? Don't worry." A silence of several minutes.

"Meta Knight?"

"Yes, Fumu?"

"Please don't leave."

"Never."

As her last moments ticked away, she got up and shuffled over to the statue and draped herself over the rough stone like a cloak, grasping a stubby, grey paw weakly in one hand.

When she drew in her last, rattled breath, she thought with a slight smile,

_Still haven't broken my promise. Don't worry Kirby; I'll be with you soon._

* * *

If you go to the grave of the Star Warrior Kirby, you will see a strange sight. Over the statue of the long gone fighter towers a female lindworm, made of the purest, blackest obsidian. Her talons curl around the granite puffball protectively, and she looks on him with what you discern to be motherly love. Her wingtips press into the earth, like it would take too much energy to lift them. People say that when the legendary Meta Knight carved the monument, he poured every bit of grief and sorrow into the rock, so it became as heavy as lead.

But no matter how tired she becomes, her wings shall protect her child from any harm.


End file.
